


What Love Can Do

by nephiliminality



Category: Good Omens (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Ace-friendly, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Aziraphale Is Brilliant But Also Leaves Magic Circles Lying Around, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon-Typical Driving, Canon-typical Alcohol Consumption, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Crossover, Crowley Being Nice And Being Embarrassed About It, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley and Aziraphale are SO married, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Misses Sam Winchester, Developing Friendships, Fix-It, Good Omens Will Take Your Queer Angels If You Won't Treat Them Right, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Light Angst is mostly for Cas - he has culture shock and his prince is in another castle, M/M, No More Dying For You Two You Are In The GOniverse Now, No not like that oh well close enough, Not quite canon-compliant with ep 20 but I don't care, Our Worlds Are Very Different, Perceptive Aziraphale, Perceptive Crowley, Post-Canon (Good Omens), Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Rating change is for alcohol and swearing, Sad Dean Winchester, Snarky Crowley (Good Omens), Snarky Dean Winchester, Sorry we have a couple of important scenes to deal with, Spoilers for Episode: s15e18 Despair, Spoilers for Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Still Mostly Just Talking, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, This is pretty fluffy for Crowley and Aziraphale, tea solves everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephiliminality/pseuds/nephiliminality
Summary: Fresh from his latest setback, Castiel wakes up in... a bookshop? A bookshop in a mysterious other world where an angel and a demon hold hands over afternoon tea and the only Hellhound on Earth just wants to chase cats and very little appears to be on fire? What trickery is this?Crowley and Aziraphale get an impossible visitor. Really, if one will leave an unused summoning circle lying around...
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens) & Castiel (Supernatural), Aziraphale (Good Omens) & Dean Winchester, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel (Supernatural) & Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley (Good Omens) & Dean Winchester
Comments: 50
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [EmAndFandems](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems) and [PersianPenName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersianPenName) for beta reading chapter 1, and [Brandon](https://velociraptors-in-hats.tumblr.com/) for beta reading chapter 2 and making many helpful suggestions :)

“Angel? You’ve got a, uh, customer.”

The ‘customer’ was sprawled on the rug in the middle of the floor, out cold. Crowley didn’t have a great view from the sofa, but he was very sure there had been no-one there a minute ago, and he was wondering how worried he should be about it.

Aziraphale appeared from behind a bookshelf, arms full of books, and looked down at the stranger in confusion. He turned to look at the door, which he knew to be locked, then up at the skylight (intact and, as always, miraculously clean), then back to the rug, confusion rapidly moving on to indignation.

“Who are you? How did you get in? We’re closed.”

The prone figure didn’t respond. Crowley got up and walked over, Aziraphale carefully put down his books, and they converged on their guest.

“Hm, seems to be fine, just unconscious.” Aziraphale said, kneeling. “He certainly didn’t walk in. Did he just appear here? Right on my circle?”

Crowley looked at him sharply. “You haven’t rubbed that out yet?”

Aziraphale looked wretched. “It feels so final.”

“They tried to kill you. That’s pretty final.”

Aziraphale sighed and nodded. “I’ll do it soon, I promise. They can’t use it without me activating it first anyway.”

Crowley looked down at the rug’s occupant and back up again, and raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale gave him a ‘yes, alright, fair point’ scowl, then looked back down. His brow furrowed.

“That’s odd. Definitely angelic, but not one of ours…”

“Ours?” Crowley inquired.

Aziraphale looked up at him again. “Not from Heaven. Not m- this world’s Heaven, anyway. Can’t you tell? Though I don’t see how he could be from anywhere else.”

Crowley certainly could tell, now was he looking properly. This being was unquestionably divine, but with Grace that was faint and fading; a storm-felled tree torn from its roots. The familiar and bittersweet Grace of home was growing up around it like ivy, filling the space and taking the shape of the tree - making something that resembled what was lost, but was entirely different. If Crowley was willing to admit to anything being creepy, this would be it.

He thought about possible explanations for the presence of this hollow angel and concluded that the answer to ‘how worried he should be’ was ‘very’.

“It’s not possible to travel between worlds, angel.” he whispered. “They were very clear about that, back in the day.”

“I know.” Aziraphale replied, looking as uneasy as Crowley felt. “And yet.”

The visitor stirred and groaned. Crowley backed off, figuring it probably wasn’t wise to hang around near an unknown angel. Aziraphale nodded at him in agreement as he disappeared into the back room, then put a hand on the visitor’s shoulder.

“Hello?” he said nervously. “Are you alright?”

The visitor looked up at him blearily. “Who are you?”

“I’m Aziraphale. Principality.”

“I don’t know that name.”

“I’ll try not to take it personally.” Aziraphale replied, taking it personally.[1] “And you are?”

“Castiel.”

Aziraphale racked his brains and came up empty. “I don’t know that name either.”

Castiel frowned. “You don’t?”

“Should I?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale considered this. “I see.” he said. “Well, Castiel, I think you’ve come a long way. Do you know what happened?”

“No.” Castiel answered, sitting up carefully and taking in the surroundings. “I should be dead. Back in the Empty. Not... wherever this is.”

“The what?”

Castiel looked at Aziraphale as if wondering if he was created yesterday. “The void outside Creation.”

“No such thing, must be an extra bit of your world.” Crowley interjected from the back room entrance, sunglasses firmly back in place and trying to look casual. “Sort of a celestial back alley or something. Where the bins go.”

Castiel leapt to his feet with unexpected speed, making Aziraphale jump and almost lose his balance. He turned to face Crowley and bristled.

“Demon.”

Crowley gulped. Aziraphale hurriedly put himself between them and glared at Castiel.

“Leave him alone.”

Castiel stared back at Aziraphale, unimpressed. “You know this demon? You have some kind of deal?”

Aziraphale drew himself up proudly. “In fact I do.”

“Bad idea.”

“Tell me about it.” Crowley said. “I never get a moment’s peace.”

Aziraphale turned to pout at him, and Crowley grinned. Aziraphale couldn't help but grin back. Then he turned back to Castiel and glowered. “You will not harm him.”

As the two angels glared at each other, the room began to take on a feeling like the instant before a lightning strike. Crowley realised that he had no idea what this intruder’s capabilities were, and most likely neither did Aziraphale. He thought frantically for a way to defuse this.

Then, thankfully, Castiel shrugged. “Your business is your business. But I don’t trust him.”

“That’s fine.” Crowley said with false nonchalance, hoping his relief wasn’t showing. “We don’t trust you either.” He came closer, with his best casual saunter, but stayed behind Aziraphale. “So, how did you manage to piss off someone so powerful so badly that you actually got kicked out of your universe? What did you do?”

“It’s a long story.” Castiel replied, suddenly looking very tired.

Aziraphale looked at him curiously, and a little sympathetically. The tension drained back out of the room leaving behind it an uncomfortable empty calmness, which Aziraphale filled in the customary British fashion.

“I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?”

* * *

“What a horrible place.” Crowley said, some time later, when they were sitting around a table with tea and biscuits that even Aziraphale hadn’t touched. Castiel had been very cautious about which parts of the story to tell, but what he had shared with them was quite a tale. At some point Crowley and Aziraphale had quietly linked hands, which Castiel certainly noticed but had evidently decided not to comment on.

“It is what it is.” Castiel replied, as if talking about inconvenient roadworks not a world of teeth and fire and unavoidable killing. “Wars happen. People die. Everywhere has monsters.”

“We don’t have that kind of monster.” Aziraphale said with a shudder.

“Just the human kind.” Crowley added.

“And some of our less pleasant colleagues.” Aziraphale continued, with a pained grin.

“Former colleagues.” Crowley corrected, making Aziraphale’s face go on a brief emotional safari then settle on ‘infatuated’. Crowley squeezed his hand and returned the look, then remembered they had company and self-consciously composed himself.

“There is really no need for hunters here?” Castiel asked, staring into his cold cup of tea. “No vampires? No hellhounds?”

“Nope.” Crowley confirmed. “Well, there is a hellhound but he’s alright. Yappy. Likes chasing cats. Lives in Oxfordshire with the Antichrist.”

“Who is a lovely young man.” beamed Aziraphale paternally. “Very well brought-up. A keen environmentalist.”

Castiel looked up in surprise. “The Antichrist is on Earth?”

“Yes.” Crowley and Aziraphale said in unison.

“So the Apocalypse is coming?”

Aziraphale shook his head, still smiling. “Oh no, it’s been and gone. Averted. Cancelled. Indefinitely paused.”

“Adam said no.” Crowley said proudly. “Renounced his heritage. Gave the Devil himself a good talking-to.”

“As I said.” Aziraphale repeated. “Very well brought-up.”

Castiel looked from one to the other, very confused. “The Apocalypse was prevented? By talking?”

“Yes.”

“How?” he demanded.

Aziraphale looked at the tea and biscuits, then snapped his fingers. The teacups steamed.[2] He took a sip and gave a little satisfied hum, then cleared his throat.

“I suppose we should start at the Beginning…”

* * *

Recounting the last 6000 years took a while, not least because, trials aside, Aziraphale had almost none of Castiel’s reticence about sharing details. Crowley watched him talk, chipping in occasionally and answering a few questions but generally just gazing fondly and providing the odd heckle. Sometimes he would close off a little, or gently change the subject, and sometimes he would glance at Castiel as if daring him to challenge the account. Castiel found all this as interesting as the story. This was not the sort of behaviour he expected from either divine or infernal beings, and not the sort of story he expected of a world with either.

“Your world is very different from mine.” he said, once Aziraphale finished.

“It’s a nice world.” Aziraphale agreed, reaching for a petticoat tail with a fair amount of biscuit-focused covetousness. “We’re very glad it's still here.”

“Your superiors disagree.” Castiel said.

“They’re not our superiors any more.” Crowley said sharply. “We’re on our own side. And they’re only still around to disagree because of Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale blushed, but also wiggled. “And you dear. And Adam. And his friends. And Madame Tracy of course. And, um...”

“Book girl and whatshisface.”

“Ah yes. Miss Device and her young man.”

Castiel was clearly still having some difficulty. “You can just refuse to fight? You don’t have to?”

“It would appear so.” Aziraphale confirmed. “Heaven and Hell have left us alone. The world seems to have gone back to normal. No great evil afoot or sea monsters, um, afloat. Just humanity. Doing what they do. For better or worse.” He finished the petticoat tail and sighed happily. "They are very good at biscuits."

“Very different.”

An awkward silence descended. Castiel stared down at the table and Aziraphale studied his fingernails. Crowley watched them both, thinking hard.

“I really don’t understand how you can be here.” he said.

“Me neither.” Castiel mumbled.

“It must be difficult.” Aziraphale said awkwardly. “Suddenly ending up somewhere so different.”

“Being stuck between worlds would be worse.” Castiel replied, with a half-hearted shrug.

“That can’t happen.” Crowley stated, shaking his head. “You can’t get stuck between universes, there’s nothing there to get stuck *in*. Either you shouldn't be able to get out at all or you should just stop existing. But somehow you washed up here instead. Shouldn't be possible.”

“There must be a way in.” Aziraphale mused. “Some kind of bridge between realities that isn’t supposed to be there.”

“Must be to do with your circle.” Crowley suggested, thinking. “What if it doesn’t connect to Heaven any more? What if they cut you off but really mucked it up, and now it’s an open channel that other worlds can find?” His thoughtfulness turned to agitation. “What else might come through?”

He looked at Aziraphale and Aziraphale looked back. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, then he stood up abruptly, strode over to the rug, pulled it up off the circle, and started to scuff out symbols with his heel. The other two got up and watched him, Crowley relaxing a little. Castiel looked horrified.

“How am I going to get back?” he demanded. “You have stranded me here.”

“That circle could never get you back.” Crowley replied quietly. “You’d need the Almighty to do it, don’t think anyone or anything else is capable.” He looked apologetic. “And you'd need something like that circle in your world to land on, and enough luck to hit it instead of just vanishing. Your odds aren’t good.”

Castiel squinted at him suspiciously. “How do you know this?”

“Know a bit about reality.” Crowley said wistfully, still watching Aziraphale, but looking somewhen else now. “Wasn’t always a demon. Built stars once.”

Castiel didn’t reply, but watched him watch Aziraphale, as if trying to decide something or work something out. Then he turned away, and they both watched Aziraphale’s efforts in awkward silence.

Eventually Castiel spoke again, quietly. “I need to get back.”

Crowley turned to Castiel and looked at him intently. He had been paying attention to the story, and not everything that stood out had done so because it was terrible.

“This... Dean?” he said carefully. “Must have made quite an impression.”

Castiel avoided his eyes. “Perceptive. For a demon.”

Crowley shrugged. “Wouldn't be much good at temptation if I couldn’t work out what people want.”

Castiel huffed an acknowledgement and they lapsed into silence again. Aziraphale had stopped scuffing and was now on his knees, making adjustments. Crowley watched him fondly. Castiel watched impassively, with the occasional curious glance at Crowley.

“He’s brilliant, you know.” Crowley said quietly. “Aziraphale. Just brilliant. And he doesn’t give up. If there is a way of getting you back, he’ll find it.”

”You care about him.” Castiel said, still slightly disbelieving.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Well spotted. Sharp, you are.”

“Why would a demon care about an angel? About anyone?”

Crowley laughed. “He made quite an impression.”

“You are a strange demon.”

“He’s a strange angel.” Crowley said without looking at Castiel. “So are you, I reckon.”

“Perhaps.”

Crowley went silent again, watching Aziraphale but clearly thinking. After a while he turned to Castiel again.

“Can you do miracles here?” he inquired.

Castiel frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Have a go. Summon a coin or something.” Crowley cast a critical eye over Castiel’s attire. “Or a better tie.”

Castiel ignored the jibe. “How do I do that?”

Crowley explained, and demonstrated. Castiel made several attempts, with no success.

“Ah, hm. Maybe it’ll come later.” Crowley sighed. “But you’ll have to make do until then, I suppose.” He deliberated with himself for a bit, then slipped an impeccable matte black credit card out of a pocket it shouldn’t have fitted into, and held it out with a flourish. “Here. 'Til you find your feet, figure out the miracles, or whatever. Max it out and you’re on your own.”

Castiel looked at it suspiciously. “I am not doing a deal with you.”

“It’s not a deal.” Crowley said hastily. “It’s just… a hand.“

“I'm not owing you a favour either.”

“You won’t. Freebie. Promise.”

“But you are a demon.”

“Yes. Yes I’m a demon.” Crowley snapped. “Bloody angels. Like a broken record. But you know what that means?” He locked eyes on Castiel's over the top of his sunglasses, getting was close as he dared, and quietly continued. “It means I know what it's like to lose everything. Just take the bloody card, will you. And keep it quiet. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

They held eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, then Castiel seemed to reach a decision. He tugged the card out of Crowley’s fingers and slipped it guiltily into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

They turned back to the main room, to see Aziraphale heading back towards them, brushing dust off his hands. 

“That should do for now.” he said as he reached them. “There’s definitely something funny going on with it, but I'm sure nothing else can get through. I want to take a good look at it before I remove it entirely.” Crowley made an unconvinced grimace but didn't push it.

“Crowley thinks I would need your Almighty to send me back.” Castiel said.

“Most likely. But the Almighty doesn’t so much as talk to anyone any more, let alone provide practical assistance.” Aziraphale said. “I’m afraid you're very likely stuck here. We’ll see what we can find, though.”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley said awkwardly. “Though if I’m honest, I think your world sounds awful and you’re better off without it.”

“I’m sure you'll like it here” Aziraphale added. “Once you get used to it.”

Castiel looked at his feet. Crowley looked at Aziraphale, wearing an ‘I’ll explain later’ expression. Aziraphale answered it with a ‘please do’ look.

Castiel sighed. “I should be going.”

“Any idea where you’re going?” Aziraphale inquired.

“America.” Castiel said firmly, then looked briefly concerned. “You do have America?”

“We do, yes.” Crowley said. “There’s a lot of it.”

“I passed through briefly during the whole Apocalypse business.” Aziraphale added. “Must make a proper visit soon. Perhaps when you’ve found your feet.”

Castiel nodded. “I would like that.”

Aziraphale smiled happily. “That’s settled then. Do you need taking anywhere? I’m sure Crowley wouldn’t mind.” Crowley smiled tightly.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. Be sure to keep in touch. We'll let you know if we find anything useful.”

Castiel thanked them both again, then turned away and left the shop without fuss or ceremony. Angel and demon watched him walk away.

“Well, he’s certainly an interesting fellow.” Aziraphale said, at last.

“Yeah, we’d better keep an eye on him.”

“Indeed. In case he does something inordinately foolish.”

“Like trying to pick a fight with God?” Crowley replied. “Again?”

“Quite.”

They both shared a disbelieving chuckle.

“Oh, I saw your little act of charity.” Aziraphale teased, making Crowley squirm. “You really are rather n-”

“Stopit.”

“Hmph. You are.”

“Am not. Anyway it’s not charity, it’s bribery. We’d never get rid of him otherwise.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Well in that case, might I congratulate you on a very well-executed evil deed? Tip-top demonic activity.”

“Yes, yes, alright, don’t push it.”

Aziraphale smirked, slipped an arm round Crowley’s waist and tugged the demon to his side. Crowley let himself be pulled in and rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. After a comfortable moment, he shifted position to whisper in the angel’s ear - he needed a temptation to balance out that sickening generosity after all, and this was one of his favourites. Worked every time, too.

“Lunch?”

Aziraphale kissed his cheek and whispered back. “That would be lovely dear.”

* * *

1\. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted infamy, but when one had been personally involved in both the start and the end of the Great Plan, one couldn’t help feeling a little put out not to have been heard of. [back]

2\. It was fresh[3] tea - Aziraphale might cheat at making it sometimes but he would never be such a heathen as to reheat it. The very thought! [back]

3\. Whether it was the same fresh tea as the first time may be a question for philosophers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At least this one is human, I suppose.” Aziraphale said, scooping the unconscious visitor off the floor and carrying him through the wards, then depositing him gently on the sofa. “And seemingly none the worse for wear.”  
> “Seems so.” agreed Crowley, crouching next to the sofa and peering at the man’s face. “But how did he get here? An angel managing to leave a universe is bad enough, but a human? That’s just ridiculous."  
> (Gosh, I wonder who this could be?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Brandon](https://velociraptors-in-hats.tumblr.com) for beta reading and making many excellent suggestions :)

“Bother.” Aziraphale said to himself, closing the book in front of him on the desk with a quiet resigned thud. “That won’t work either.”

Crowley put down his phone. “What’s next on your list?”

“At the moment? Nothing.” Aziraphale slid his reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose where they had sat. “He is very likely stuck here.”

“He won’t be happy about that.”

“No, he won’t.” Aziraphale agreed. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else.”

“I’m sure you will.” Crowley assured him. “Anyway, you’ve been staring at that all day. Scotch?”

“Oh, yes please.” Aziraphale said gratefully. “Your choice, dear.”

Crowley got up from the sofa and headed for the back room in search of Talisker. Aziraphale added the book to a growing pile, then carefully put his pens away and filed his notes in a desk drawer with the previous attempts. There were quite a few of them, and they had all led to the same conclusion: the route by which Castiel had arrived in this universe was strictly one-way, and creating a return path was unachievable by anyone short of the Almighty. He did not relish the thought of passing on this information.

“It’s not as if it’s even a pleasant prospect” he said, loudly enough for Crowley to hear. “You’d think he’d stop asking eventually.”

“Would you?” came the response from somewhere in a cupboard. It was shortly followed by a much quieter “Ah, there you are. Why are you in _there_?” and the sound of bottles clinking.

“Well, no, I suppose not.” Aziraphale replied, feeling a little guilty[1].

“Me neither.” Crowley said, heading back into the room. He stopped halfway and uttered a string of consonants. “Um, angel?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale said, looking up at Crowley. Crowley wasn’t looking back at him; he was staring at the floor beneath the skylight, bottle in one hand and whisky glasses in the other.

“Is that circle still warded?” he said warily.

“Of course. Why?”

Aziraphale got up from his chair to see what had caught Crowley’s attention, and saw the man sprawled on the rug.

“Ah.”

* * *

“At least this one is human, I suppose.” Aziraphale said, scooping the unconscious visitor off the floor and carrying him through the wards, then depositing him gently on the sofa. “And seemingly none the worse for wear.”

“Seems so.” agreed Crowley, crouching next to the sofa and peering at the man’s face. “But how did he get here? An angel managing to leave a universe is bad enough, but a human? That’s just ridiculous. The sooner you shut that thing down, the better.”

The man’s eyes sprang open. Crowley jumped in surprise and lost his balance, ending up on his backside at Aziraphale’s feet. The man sat up and looked around the room. “What the hell?” he said.

Crowley scrambled upright, trying to recover his dignity; Aziraphale grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from the sofa. The visitor swung both feet onto the floor and stared down at his hands.

“Damn it.” he said to himself. “What’s a guy gotta do to stay dead?”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, then back at their guest, who was now eyeing them suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Who’s asking?” replied Crowley.

“Like you don’t know.”

“We don’t, actually.” Crowley responded. “Though if you’re from the same place as the last one, I reckon I could take a good guess.”

“Last one?”

“You’re not the first to turn up here from another world, entirely unannounced.” Aziraphale said. “Though you are the first human. The other was an angel.”

The visitor’s eyes widened slightly. “Cas?” he blurted, then looked annoyed with himself for the slip.

“Bingo.” Crowley said smugly. “Hello, Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you at last.”

Dean glared at him, then stood up and folded his arms. “Right.” he said firmly. “Who are you, where am I, and why am I here?”

“I’m Aziraphale,” said Aziraphale cheerfully, “and this is Crowley. Ah, no relation to the one in your world.”

“Who can’t pronounce his own name.” Crowley sniped.

“Yes, dear.” Aziraphale replied wearily, then addressed Dean again. “You are in my bookshop, which is in London. I have no idea why you are here – I was rather hoping you could tell me.”

“And you know about angels?” Dean queried.

“Well I would, I am one.” Aziraphale smiled. “Would you like some tea?”

* * *

While Aziraphale busied himself in the back room, Crowley hovered by the desk and watched Dean inventory his pockets. He was trying to look casual, which was proving tricky because many of the alarming items on brief display were blessed[2]. Among the more mundane things was a set of car keys, which Dean’s eyes lingered on for slightly longer than anything else. Crowley made a mental note.

“Found what you were after?” he said as Dean finished.

“Looks like everything I had on me when I died." Dean said, waving an intimidating bladed item in Crowley's general direction, by way of demonstration. "Handy.”

Crowley looked back at him, unimpressed. “I take it you weren’t sleeping at the time.” he deadpanned.

“I’m a hunter.” Dean said sullenly, putting the thing away. “We don’t go gently.”

“No, I imagine not.” Crowley mused. “Or rarely, in your case. I had no idea the Ferryman did season tickets.”

Dean bristled. “What do you know about me?” he demanded.

“What Castiel told us." Crowley said. "You’ve had quite a life, haven’t you?”

Dean eyed him doubtfully, then turned away. “He’s here, then?”

“Yup. Arrived the same way you did, just showed up without warning. Said he was supposed to be somewhere called the Empty.” Crowley noticed Dean tense slightly, and made another mental note.

“He in any trouble?” Dean asked, with artificial casualness.

Crowley shook his head. “He’s fine, more or less. Moping around America, mostly. Pops by occasionally."

“Give it time.” Dean said dryly.

Crowley made an amused noise. “He’s an angel from another universe, no-one here’s ever seen that before. I reckon both Heaven and Hell don’t know what to make of him, so they’re leaving well alone. And no human would stand a chance. He’s _scary_."

Dean’s face cracked into a brief furtive smirk then shuttered again. Crowley made a note of that too.

“So do demons routinely hang out with angels around here?” Dean observed.

Crowley blinked. “Meaning?”

“You guys are freakin’ colour-coded. You’re not subtle.”

While Crowley tried to think of an appropriate response, Aziraphale re-emerged from the back room bearing an antique silver tray loaded with tea and biscuits. “Where were you before?” he asked Dean, while pouring out the tea. “Do you have any idea how you got here?”

“No.” Dean said, ignoring the tea. “Was in Heaven I guess. Got mad, demanded to see Cas, woke up here. Wherever here is.”

“I suppose we should give you an overview.” Aziraphale said, sounding enthusiastic. He settled into his chair and waved the others over to the sofa, then launched into a brief history of the world, from Creation to Dean’s arrival. Unexpectedly, Crowley found himself watching Dean instead of Aziraphale - he listened to everything impassively, even the account of the peacefully-thwarted Apocalypse that had so baffled Castiel.

“I must say, you appear to be remarkably unperturbed about all this.” Aziraphale said, once he’d finished. “Travelling between worlds, being resurrected…”

“It’s not the first time.” Dean said bluntly.

“Mm.” Crowley replied, fascinated. “Most people would be devastated by either of those. For you it’s just a Thursday. Don’t suppose you want to share your version of events?”

“Not really.” Dean replied. “How do I get back?”

“I’m afraid you can’t.” Aziraphale said sympathetically. “I have been looking into it since Castiel arrived, kept the link open just in case, but everything I’ve tried leads to the same conclusion. Nothing short of divine intervention could get you back to your own world.”

Dean visibly sagged and sat staring into the floor, unmoving. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged worried looks. Aziraphale fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Better give him a call, I suppose.” Crowley said, breaking the silence and pulling out his phone. “Let him know you’re here.” He made the call, listened to the voice on the other end, and then rolled his eyes.

“Cas, it’s Crowley, sorry to interrupt your packed social calendar but you’re going to want to come to Aziraphale’s place sharpish. We are having a surprise tea party with Dean Winchester. Cheers.”

He hung up and muttered. “Typical. First time ever that I’ve called Mr Have-you-found-something-yet and got voicemail.”

“We’ll just have to wait for him to get back to us.” Aziraphale sighed. “I can’t imagine it’ll be all that long. In the meantime, Dean, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”

Crowley looked over at the eager Aziraphale, then at Dean, who looked like he would rather pet a Hellhound. At great personal risk, he threw a lifeline. “Saw your car keys earlier.” he said. “What’s yours?”

“’67 Chevy Impala.” Dean said immediately.

“Mine’s a ‘26 Bentley. Want to see?”

* * *

It just wasn't as much fun, thought Crowley, while taking the Hammersmith Flyover at a hundred and thirty miles per hour, when the passenger actually approved. Encouraged, even! Some people have no sense of self preservation.

Eventually, after a nevertheless enjoyable couple of hours spent terrorising the A-roads of London and swapping car stories, they ended up in Richmond Park. Crowley pulled up somewhere the Bentley was definitely not supposed to be and turned off the lights. A few low clouds drifted by overhead, stained orange by the city. The car's occupants, out of safe anecdotes for the time being, sat quietly.

“Lotta planes.” Dean remarked eventually.

“That’s the Heathrow Airport flight path.” Crowley said with a grin. “Got me a commendation.”

“That’s what passes for demonic activity around here?” Dean said incredulously.

“Don’t knock it, it works.”

They went quiet again. Crowley watched another flight come in, looking pensive.

“S’funny really.” he mused. “Saw Her knock a tower down once ‘cause that was getting too big for their boots; now they make their own _wings_ and there’s not a word. She just doesn't get involved any more. There's a nudge here, a prophet there, the odd psychic, but nothing much. Whatever She's playing at, it's light-touch." He caressed the steering wheel absent-mindedly. "I think She’s done with writing stories. I think She wants to see what stories they come up with.”

“Sounds nice.” Dean said apathetically.

Crowley turned to him. “You’ll be alright here, once you get used to it. You’ll like not having to be on guard all the time.”

“Why are you doing this?" Dean replied. "What's in it for you?”

“You're important to Castiel”, Crowley confessed. “He’s a friend of ours, sort of. I think it’s done Aziraphale good, having another angel around who’s not on speaking terms with Heaven. I’ve got his back for that if nothing else."

Dean nodded and turned away again.

“So what is he to you, anyway?" Crowley inquired. "He thinks very highly of you.”

“None of your business.”

“Fair enough.”

Dean continued gazing through the windscreen at nothing in particular.

“What’s Aziraphale to you?” he asked.

Crowley thought for a second, then shrugged. “Everything.”

“Cute.”

“He got me out of Hell and I got him out of Heaven.” Crowley said pointedly. “That’s not exactly a casual acquaintance.”

Dean glanced at him cynically, then turned away again. There was another awkward silence.

"Is he right about there being no way back?"

"Probably. He'll keep trying, but it's not looking good."

Dean looked down at his hands again. They were in his lap, fingers digging into his jeans.

“Look on the bright side." Crowley tried. "That life you had back there, you didn’t even like it, did you? It was all just stuff that had to be done. Well, now you don’t have to do it anymore. You can go muck about with cars or something. You’re retired. And alive to enjoy it.”

“And all it’ll cost me is never seeing my brother again.”

Crowley winced. He really should have guessed, he thought, that Dean Winchester the lifelong soldier could even use a crack in his own armour as a weapon. He watched Dean clench his fist and glare silently downwards as if trying to destroy the floor beneath him with sheer force of will.

“He might come over as well?” Crowley suggested tentatively. “You did.”

“Not if Mister Tea back there shuts the door.”

Crowley shook his head. “He won’t.”

Dean frowned and loosened slightly. “He won’t?”

“I’ve known him a very long time.” Crowley explained. “He’ll say he will, might even think he will, but he won’t. He’s not going to close an escape route from a world like that even if it’s a terrible idea not to.”

"I thought he was supposed to be smart."

Crowley sighed with fond exasperation. “He is. He’s stupid too. He’s brave, and soft, and obstinate, and sometimes a right bastard, and when he thinks he knows the right thing to do he’ll do it come what may. He’s the only angel in this world who sees love as anything other than background radiation. Well, was. Reckon there’s two now.”

There was another awkward pause.

“Anyway, my point is”, he continued, “there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re going to have to trust your brother to find his own way. You can do that, right?”

Dean went quiet for a bit, clearly packing all that away for later consideration or possibly burial at sea. Then he turned to Crowley with a carefully-constructed wry smile. “So _this_ is what passes for demonic activity around here?”

“I’m retired, I’ll do what I like.” retorted Crowley self-consciously. “But don’t tell Aziraphale, will you? He’ll be insufferable. Any idea what you’re going to do now?”

“I better stick around here. If you're keeping that door open you might need me.”

“Dean. Aziraphale is the Angel of the Eastern Gate and I can literally stop time. You’re human. No offence, but...”

“You don’t know what’s over there. I do.”

Crowley sighed. “We’ll keep you on speed dial. Happy?”

Just then, Crowley’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller’s name and answered it immediately. “Oh finally. Right. Yes, right. On our way. Bye angel.” He hung up. “Time to go.”

* * *

“You said he was here.”

“He’s with Crowley, they’re bonding over carburettors[3] or something. Shouldn't be long.”

Aziraphale handed Castiel a glass. They were standing in the back room making small talk, being the kind of people who gravitate to the kitchen at parties. Castiel had not bothered to call ahead; once he got Crowley’s message he simply turned up as quickly as possible. Aziraphale was entirely unsurprised.

“How is America?” Aziraphale asked.

“Good.” Castiel answered. “Still no monsters. Just people. Being people.”

Aziraphale smiled. "How are the miracles coming along?"

“I'm getting stronger, I think, and more accurate. It is still strange.”

“There’s certainly a knack to it. You’re doing very well, I think, considering your unconventionality.”

Castiel nodded and sipped his drink. “I was called on by your old bosses today.” he said. “They asked me to work for them.”

“I see.” Aziraphale said curiously. “And how politely did you decline?”

“I don’t think they’ll ask again.” Castiel said, with a hint of a smile.

Aziraphale smiled back. They clinked glasses.

“Have you found anything?” Castiel asked.

Aziraphale shook his head. “No luck. It appears to be strictly one-way.” He studied Castiel intently. “But somehow I think that’s no longer the priority it was?”

Castiel made what he liked to think of as an unreadable expression, but there is very little in existence that an attentive Aziraphale can't read.

"Your young man is certainly interesting." Aziraphale said enigmatically.

"How did he get here?" Castiel asked.

"I'm as clueless about his arrival as I am about yours. All he said was that he was in Heaven and asked to see you, then found himself here. Those could be related, but that doesn't tell us much."

Castiel didn't hear the second half of the answer. "Heaven? Why? Did he...?"

"I'm afraid so.” Aziraphale confirmed. “He is very much alive now, though."

“What happened? When?”

“He didn’t say. He was very reluctant to talk about himself at all. From his apparent age and behaviour I presume it wasn’t long after your departure.”

Castiel stared into his glass, which he was gripping tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said, gently and a little uncomfortably. “I trust he'll find a safer occupation now he's here.”

"I hope so. Even if I will not be needed."

“He asked for you specifically.” Aziraphale reminded him. “It seems likely that he wants you around, whether your services are required or not."

Castiel shrugged and they both fell silent again.

"Will someone else ask for him, do you think?” Aziraphale mused, “And someone else for them? Could there be a slow exodus from your world?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps?”

Aziraphale topped up his glass. “That could make things interesting.”

Castiel nodded. "Very interesting.”

* * *

Soon afterwards, Dean and Crowley arrived. Castiel and Aziraphale made their way to the front of the shop to meet them, carefully avoiding the circle. Crowley was lounging in the doorway behind Dean. Aziraphale stood near Castiel with his hands behind his back, smiling expectantly.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel said, in a carefully controlled tone of voice. Dean stood silently, face blank and hands in pockets.

“We’ll just leave you to it then, shall we?” Crowley said. He went over to Aziraphale, grabbed his elbow and steered him towards the back room. Once they were gone, Dean took a deep breath.

“Asshole.” he spat. Castiel flinched.

“You can’t” Dean continued, “say all _that_ and then just _leave forever_.”

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Castiel said sadly.

“The hell you did.” Dean retorted. “We've gotten out of worse. I thought you were _dead_ , Cas. I prayed to you all the time, hoping you were wrong, that you'd come back, like you always did before. But you never answered and you never came back. Not even when I was _dying_. And yet here you are, alive and well in some Disneyland bookshop. What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know what happened.” Castiel stated. “I couldn't hear you from here. I did try to get back, but it is not possible.”

“So I’m told.” Dean said, simmering. “Dumb self-sacrificing son of a bitch.”

"You of all people understand sacrifice, Dean." Castiel said sharply. " _And yet_ you are no different from when I last saw you. How little time did I buy you? How lightly did you throw away the life I died to save?"

"So your stupid heroics had no staying power.” Dean hit back. “What did you expect? I'm a hunter. There's a new way to die every day."

"Not anymore.” Castiel declared. “Not here. There is nothing to hunt here. You are going to have to find another way to live.”

“Well so are you.”

They glared at each other in tense silence while the words sunk in. Then something broke.

Suddenly they were in each other’s arms, hugging desperately, each at once a drowning man and their rescuer. They had picked each other up and knocked each other down so many times. They had made impossible choices and terrible mistakes. They had lost everything, again and again. But right now, none of it mattered.

Some moments split the world into what came before and what comes after, the world that was and the world that is. There is no going back. But going forwards is worth a try. Reliving the past is a poor substitute for a future.

“Love you too, dumbass.” Dean whispered, barely audibly. “Don’t die on me again."

* * *

A short while later, Castiel peered into the back room, where Crowley and Aziraphale immediately began pretending they hadn’t been listening. “We're going now”, he said.

"I could use a beer." Dean added, from behind him. "A good one."

"Dean wants beer." Castiel echoed. He sounded slightly dazed.

They said their goodbyes and set off into the night without fuss or ceremony. Angel and demon watched them walk away.

“Oh, close enough." Crowley said, once they’d left. "Bloody made for each other.”

Aziraphale smirked. "I think that’s quite enough invective for one day.”

He went to retrieve the Scotch from the back room. When he returned, he joined Crowley on the sofa and passed him a glass, which was accepted gratefully.

“At least that’s over.” Crowley said, stretching out.

Aziraphale looked doubtful. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Crowley looked up at him. “You think his brother’ll show up as well?”

“Perhaps. Maybe others. It’s happened twice now, it’s bound to happen again.”

“Oh dear.” Crowley grinned. “America’s not going to know what hit it.”

"Nor is my rug.” Aziraphale said with resignation.

“You’re not going to close it, then?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale looked pained. “I do need to, it's dangerous. But I should give them a chance first. A week or two, perhaps.”

Crowley smiled into his glass, fondly and knowingly. "Sounds good, angel."

* * *

1\. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to imagine what being stuck in another world without Crowley would be like – he had, but his mind slid off it like suspicion off an Antichrist. Some things were just unthinkable. [back]

2\. The little bottle of water wasn’t at all holy, thankfully. Crowley suspected that a) this would be news to Dean, and b) he owed Aziraphale lunch again.[back]

3\. Aziraphale had no idea what a ‘carburettor’ was, he just kept hearing it in that bebop song about the much-loved car. Every time the Bentley played it he resolved to look it up, and every time he forgot. He couldn’t possibly just ask Crowley, that would be silly.[back]

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm undecided on whether to continue this or just leave it as it is - if more does happen it probably won't be for a while I'm afraid. You can safely assume that Sam makes it over at some point whether any more is written or not :)
> 
> Comments welcome and appreciated, either here or on [Tumblr](https://nephiliminality.tumblr.com/) :)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a song by Bruce Springsteen, which feels applicable to both shows but has rather different vibes for each...


End file.
